


Mosaic

by Meddow



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-30
Updated: 2009-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddow/pseuds/Meddow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She spends her nights trapped in the memories of two lives – both of them locked away."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mosaic

**Author's Note:**

> Just something written post _Journey's End_

Donna Noble does not dream. She spends her nights trapped in the memories of two lives – both of them locked away. They fold and twist and dance in her mind, creating a narrative out of fragments.

Into that creation her unconscious mind wakes and she finds herself entering worlds both familiar and foreign, arriving in battle fields and playgrounds, carnivals and funerals, staring out at black holes, grand halls, galaxies and her grandfather waving up at her.

Besides her was a dear friend, a best friend, a loved one; female, male, in mini-skirt and kilt, a woollen jumper and leather jacket, cat suit and pantsuit, school tie and blue beret, and sometimes – often – a striped suit and trainers. They would laugh and smile and bicker together until something would come, emerging from the dark.

A creature of rock and flesh, with eyes stalks and scales, plant tendrils, tentacles and teeth, encased in a glistening silver skin. It would scream and chant and wail and sing, and she would turn to her companion, and they would respond with a cheeky smile and an apprehensive glance and a roll of the eyes,

And then they both would run.

They would run through dark aisles lined with shelves of dusty books, past their reflections in the walls of shiny metal corridors, trough dense jungle swamps and on into crowded market streets. They ran through manor houses and space stations, down crystal-lined caves, through cattle-filled fields and along the edges of endless nothingness. Reaching the end of a snow-covered plateau she would find herself looking out at silver hills beneath a burnt orange sky that was turning to black as an ash plume launched upwards, to come down and bury the city below.

From the dark she finds herself on a quiet suburban street on a snowy night, feeling the chill of the wind but not wanting to leave the man in trainers standing in the doorway of his strange blue wooden box. His voice brakes as he speaks of a lost friend, and she feels herself wondering wistfully how it would have been for her had that moment really been the end.

As the dawn brakes and her alarm wails the memories fall away from her. With consciousness she forgets.

Donna Noble does not dream.


End file.
